The Lost Ship
by falling-star-of-endrod
Summary: The Spirit of Fire was lost in the 2530's and was never seen or heard from until 20 years later. Miraculously, most of her crew survived... but how? Now, the Spirit has been refit, redesigned, and recommissioned for a specific duty. Find out here. R&R!
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This is the second time I'm posting this story because I had it pointed out to me that I had many of the dates wrong for the story, so it was quite confusing to follow along. I hope that this next posting is easier. All initial questions will be answered in the coming chapters and I hope to clear up any questions that you may have with them. Good reading.

**-Prologue: The Days Before-**

"Alright, Commander," a dark haired man said from the weapons station, "ODST's are in the tube and ready to drop. Standing by for your command."

"Good."

"Sir," the communications specialist, Lieutenant Jennifer Hulse, warned, "Picking up a lot of chatter from the brass at CENTCOM. They want to know why you haven't jumped into Slipspace yet."

The commander took a deep breath, "Do you still have that Shiva warhead ready?"

"Yes, sir," the man at weapons said, "But--,"

The commander turned in his chair to face the younger officer, "No buts, Lieutenant. Do as I say, or get off my bridge."

"Sir, yes, sir." The young soldier turned back to his station.

"Alright then." The grizzled commander turned to his bridge crew, standing up out of his chair, with difficulty, as he turned. "Men and women... of the UNSC _Spirit of Fire_: I speak to you as a friend, but also as a commanding officer. Today, we must face our fears, knowing that the Covenant has just made a full scale invasion on Earth. Our homes... our families... our _survival_ is now at stake. What I ask of you from this point forward, is that you do everything in your power to make sure we _come out on top_. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Captain Cutter sat back down and swung around to face his NAV map again. All he saw in the bridge window was deep, black space. "Strap in and be ready to enter a hot combat zone. Jump on my mark; 3... 2... 1... mark!"

The _Spirit of Fire_ shot forth into a Slipspace stream that carried them from the outside of the Sol system, to Earth in a matter of minutes. As they exited the stream, a loud crack reverberated through the hull; one of the side effects of refitting a Slipspace engine with Covenant based equipment. Instantly, a very different scene met Cutter's eyes. Hundreds of ships, Covenant and UNSC were engaged in combat above the Earth, blossoming blue and orange as the tried-and-true slingshot maneuver carried the _Spirit of Fire. _As expected, the gravitation pull of the planet was pulling them over a major Covenant battle group. Cutter hoped his specialists in the drop pods were ready for a fight.

The AI, called Ivanna, popped up her avatar on the pedestal nearest Cutter's chair. "Shiva on stand by."

"Johnson!"

"Ready, sir!" The young Lieutenant had no comment this time.

"Fire!"

In the free fall from the thousands of miles between the Covenant battle group and _Spirit_, the bomb turned end over end. No debris, ships, or wind was able to stop this weapon from reaching it's target. The crew of the _Spirit_ watched on the bottom ship camera as the Shiva got smaller and smaller until they could no longer make out it's outline between the Covenant forces and the black of space. The only warning they got that it met its target was a small, orange and red explosion that knocked the shields of every ship in the battle group out. Cutter breathed.

"Deliver the ODST's now!" Cutter smiled to himself. Although the crew had no clue as to what was traveling down with the Helljumpers, the fact that the plan had gone off without a hitch, so far, sparked optimism throughout the bridge. Cutter just hoped that the hardest part of this whole plan, stayed the hardest part.

---

Four hundred and seventy-five orbital drop pods jettisoned into space, aimed straight for the crippled Covenant ships beneath them. Through screens in the pod, the troops could see that the Shiva had successfully taken out all of the shields on the enemy ships, and that the salvo of MAC blasts from multiple orbital gunstations hit many of the targets. This would shake 'em up just enough for the Helljumpers to do their work.

"You know what I miss?" Came over the open comm.

"What do you miss, Jund?" Came a sarcastic answer.

"I miss the old days; the days before we had to go on suicide missions."

Silence for a moment before the second man said, "Yea? Well get the over it. This shit's only getting' worse from here."

---

On the bottom camera view on the _Spirit of Fire_, Cutter could see that every ODST pod had impacted and shot through the Covenant battle group. He let himself relax a second as the _Spirit_ rounded the other side of Earth and began it's run out-system. _I just wish this was like the days before._


	2. Chapter 1: Regrets

**-Chapter 1: Regrets-**

**0700 Hours**

** July 16, 2552, (Military Calendar)/**

**Epsilon Eridani System**

**Undisclosed Location**

The spotlight clicked on, revealing a single person in the middle of a pitch black room. The man sitting in the chair was at ease, not a single bead of sweat or line of stress showed on his aged face. He twisted the ends of his gray mustache, a habit developed from many years of waiting in countless conference rooms and anticipation of combat. The cap he wore on his head was the same one he'd used for over twenty years, and not a sign of wear was to be seen. He was sitting up straight in his chair, waiting for his interrogation, deemed "debriefing" in his log, to begin. The sound of a door closing off to his left made eyebrows raise. Clicking sounds on the floor suggested that his interrogator was a woman.

A chair scratched across the floor and then the woman shuffled through papers before saying, "State your name."

"Cutter, James G."

"State rank and IDC."

He sighed, taking in the usual pleasantries an ONI officer was going to offer him after himself and his crew took a long leave of... absence. "Captain. JC-0859432."

A moment of silence before, "Confirmed." The woman shuffled through some more papers before saying, "We just have a few questions for you before you are admitted for duty."

Cutter nodded.

"Before the Harvest campaign, you were offered command of a destroyer. The UNSC _Prophecy_, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why did you turn this post down?"

Cutter twiddled his thumbs, laying his hands down on his lap and relaxing his shoulders; not the worst question she could have asked. "I had just been promoted to the rank of Captain. I had no skills of leadership yet and no experience commanding a vessel. On the UNSC _Glasgow_, I had a crew that respected me and respected my leadership, which allowed me to build up some of the leadership abilities I did not have in order to command the _Prophecy_. I felt that if I had taken the position, many men and women could have died that didn't need to."

The woman once again sifted through papers. "Interesting story, but if you're trying to exploit my emotions you'll have to do better than that." She coughed before going on, "Next question."

Cutter's shoulder's tensed up once more, fearing this would be the taboo question.

"Under the leadership of Admiral Cole, as a part of Battlegroup D, with participation in The Third Battle of Harvest, yourself, Sergeant John Forge, and Professor Ellen Anders, followed the Covenant to an unidentified Forerunner structure, which gave you a map that led you to the Arcadia system, and from there you were brought into a 'shield world' as you called it. You, Anders, and most of your crew escaped from the 'shield world', but you had to use your Shaw-Fujikawa generator core in order to destroy this planet and get blown out with enough momentum to carry you in space, toward a colonial world of course, for several months until someone spotted you or the lengthy journey in the cryotubes killed you.

"And so, before your entering into a cryotube, you activated a distress beacon that we picked up nearly twenty years later." The woman made an audible sigh before asking, "Is this correct?"

Cutter smirked. For once, the Office of Naval Intimidation wasn't twisting his words around. "Yes, ma'am. Every word."

"Right then," she shifted through more papers, "Our debriefing is over then, Captain. You are free to go."

The Captain slouched in his seat a little. He stood up and began to walk away when the woman said something else.

"Speaking off the record, Captain," she said, a hint of discretion in her voice. "Do you have any... regrets?"

The Captain looked over his shoulder, slightly smiling. "Nothing is 'off the record' with you people."


	3. Chapter 2: In Command

**-Chapter 2: In Command-**

**1600 Hours**

**August 14th , 2552 (Military Calendar)/**

**Epsilon Eridani System, Planet Reach**

**Orbital MAC Station, _Gauntlet_**

The newly assembled crew of the UNSC _Spirit of Fire _lined up along the walls of the atrium area on the MAC Station, _Gauntlet_. In a few moments, the crowd would be addressed by Admiral Hood and the reenlisted Captain Cutter. There were a variety of servicemen and women gathered in the large room, from scientists to Helljumpers to engineering specialists. The men and women there were the best the UNSC could muster in such a short time span for the mission they were about to receive. An officer called them to attention as the admiral approached the podium at the far end of the room, but so far, Cutter was no where to be found.

"At ease." Admiral Hood nodded to someone in the back and the lights dimmed. In the center of the room was an object that looked like a well, but with deep engravings and rotating sections. Where the opening of a well would be large, the opening to this device was rather small and had a faint white glow to it. Hood pressed a button on the podium and the diagram of the Milky Way galaxy popped into being and spread over most of the room, spilling light onto each individual, making them squint in the sudden, unexpected glare. Admiral Hood began his address.

"This, is our galaxy: the Milky Way. It is just one in a billion in our vast, ever-expanding universe. Only through light may we judge the width and extent of it, and even then, human calculations lead to error." He clicked the remote and the diagram began to zoom in over multiple star systems. "We have no idea how many systems or planets are in our galaxy. We have no way to tell without direct exploration and observation. We don't even know where the Covenant came from."

Sergeant Eric McNair, a veteran Helljumper, was standing close to the center of the hologram device, looking into the unknown reaches of the galaxy. The words of the admiral went in and out of his ears; it all sounded like scientific bullshit. But at the mention of the Covenant, McNair's interest was piqued and he began to listen with an open mind. He leaned to a fellow ODST and whispered something in his ear. His face was emotionless.

McNair expected this to be another scientific exploration trip where him and his ODSTs, were going to be used as body guards. That was FUBAR in his mind. A Helljumper playing babysitter? The admiral would go on some long tangent that basically meant, "We're screwed. Try and find a safe place to flee." After they found their "safe place", the brass at UNSC would hold off the Covenant long enough to make a massive move of civilians to the area. It would be interesting in the least.

"Now," Admiral Hood began to explain, "On July 18, 2552, one of the Spartan squads discovered this on Sigma Octanus IV." Being projected now was a piece of rock that glittered granite and jewel-encrusted spots. The rock, however was not the subject in question. "On this indigenous rock are numerous symbols and hieroglyphic-like drawings that suggests there was once life on this planet before us." He paused, searching for words, "Even before the Covenant."

McNair wasn't thinking about what he said; memories were flooding back into his mind from that day.

Sergeant McNair had been one of the few Marines to make it off the ground at the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV, and he remembered that day oh so clearly. The _single_ Pelican that had arrived after Corporal Harland (back then, McNair was a private) had called for extraction had left him angry, but as he had watched the green giants, whom everyone called "Spartans", jumped out from the back of the dropship, he only felt awe. The ODST next to him nudged his side and made a nod towards the holo.

"We believe that the Covenant don't necessarily "make" their own technology. Our scientists have come to the conclusion that they take from parts of technology that they've discovered and adapt it to their liking. This means that there is, or was, a superior race of beings before even the Covenant that have left remnants of their technology behind.

"We believe that this long rim of outer territory planets-," at this point, the hologram zoomed in on a spot towards the outside of the Milky Way, revealing several unnamed systems, "-holds an abundance of this technology." A murmur of surprise swept through the crowd.

"This'll get interesting real fast," McNair said to his buddy.

"We also believe that these systems are where the Covenant extract the technology to design and equip their ships, vehicles, armor, weapons; you name it. We think this is where it's at." The crowd erupted into madness. Marines and scientists alike began to ask the same question: How long had the UNSC known this fact and how long had they kept it a secret? Soon, the whispers grew to raised voices and then to screams with every UNSC personnel all on the same topic.

"Attention!" Captain Cutter's voice rang above all the yells and screams of pissed off individuals, cutting off even the slightest murmur, calling them to a rigid stance of attention. Many faces were still contorted with rage, but no one spoke and no one moved as Cutter slowly approached the podium at the far end of the room. He stared at every serviceman and woman he passed with disgust at the way they were behaving.

"Admiral," Cutter nodded his head and shook his senior officer's hand.

Hood took Cutter's hand, gave it one firm shake, and returned the nod. "The mic's all your's."

Cutter stepped up to the the podium, clasping his hands behind his back and standing perfectly straight behind the stand. "Men and women, of the UNSC service vehicle CFV-88, _Spirit of Fire_, what did you sign up for!" It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Cutter knew every single one of the people in the Atrium had signed up for the same thing: their shot to kill some Covenant bastards. "I hope you all can get over yourselves, because this is going to be one hell of a mission and I expect no complaints from any of you. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" It was a roar of understanding from each individual in the room and made Cutter smile slightly.

"I am in command. Anything I say is law, anything I do is for the betterment of humanity. I won't lie; most of you won't come back from this expedition. But I think you all knew, from the moment you put a signature on the dotted line, you wouldn't be returning to your normal life." Cutter relaxed a little, "It's an honor, and a privilege, to lead such honorable people. Return to your quarters at once and be ready to go at zero-two-hundred hours tomorrow.

---

"Two please," Sergeant McNair told the bartender, "On my tab." The heavy-set, grease covered man brought over two beers and nodded to McNair. "Here's to humanity." Eric and his buddy clicked the bottles together before taking long swigs of the alcoholic beverages. "Say, Bain, you think the captain's an asshole?"

Sergeant Jack Bain rubbed his deep, dark brown hair, saying, "Cap'n Cutter?"

"Yeah," McNair answered, taking another drink. "What do you think of him?"

"Well, from what I've heard," Bain said to McNair, "When Cutter was captain of the _Spirit_ the first time, at the Third Battle of Harvest, he was following Covenant forces that lead him to an unknown world. Supposedly, though, he, along with the original crew, survived for twenty years in and out of cryostorage."

"Really?" McNair sighed, "He's definitely out of his game now. I wonder why the UNSC brass would reenlist him after so long..."

"Well," Bain said, "We're all screwed anyway."

They ordered another round of drinks, both in deep thought of where humanity really stood in this one-sided war and what this long expedition would lead to.


	4. Chapter 3: Memories

**-Chapter 3: Memories-**

**0200 Hours**

**August 15th, 2552 (Military Calendar)/**

**Epsilon Eridanus, Reach System Edge**

**CFV-88, UNSC _Spirit of Fire_**

Less than six hours ago, Sergeant Eric McNair had been startled by his alarm clock telling him it was time to get up and report to the _Spirit_. He'd been roused from a dream, a good one, the dream he usually had before a mission; the one of _her_. McNair didn't know her name or what she was like; she was just some damn civilian that had died on Sigma Octanus IV. Yet, the sergeant couldn't forget her long, angular face and her graceful run, or her odd, semi-transparent eyes that seemed to burst when the plasma shot had hit her back. That's when he woke up from the dream; when he saw a thing of beauty so mercilessly slain.

He'd gotten out of bed, dressed hastily and almost sprinted to the docking bay at the far end of the loading platform. Just as he got there, Cutter showed up with a very young and striking woman who wore the all white dress of a civilian scientist and walked with an air of confidence. McNair's normally stone expression turned into a slight smile; a crack beneath his upper lip that just showed his interest in her. Cutter had caught him and he'd immediately dropped his gaze and saluted.

"Master Sergeant Eric McNair reporting for duty, sir!"

The captain responded with, "At ease," before turning and beckoning McNair to follow him. They'd walked down a series of corridors through the barracks, the mess hall, and the engine room before arriving on the bridge. McNair felt odd as he stared out into the empty space; this was only his second time on the bridge of a ship.

"Master Sergeant Eric McNair," Captain Cutter began, easing himself into the captain's chair, "You served in the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV (one of the only Marines to make it out of there, I might add), you were also stationed on Charybdis IX before it was destroyed by the Covenant, and you've recently joined the infamous 501st: the ODSTs." He took off his ball cap and patted it on the arm of the chair before putting it on and adjusting it so the bill faced forward. "This is correct?"

Eric contemplated his answer, "Sir... mostly, sir."

"Fill me in, son."

"Sir," Eric remembered the clearance a person needed, to ask about the rest of McNair's campaign, "I'm not at liberty to divulge this information, sir."

Cutter sighed, "Damned ONI... alright, Sergeant, I have to ask you one more question."

Eric straightened up. "I'll answer to the best of my ability, sir."

"What made you request a transfer to go on this mission?" Cutter eyed him carefully.

"Sir, with all due respect," Eric caught site of a shuttle flying past the underside camera on a screen to his left and paused, "I've been serving the UNSC for over ten years now. Anything I can do to help end this war, I will." He hesitated again, weighing his words. "This mission is the only smart and decisive operation that the UNSC brass has planned in a long time."

Cutter was looking to the ground now, nodding his head in agreement. He stood up, saluted, and then put his hand out for McNair to shake; a highly uncommon gesture between servicemen.

Now, though, McNair was sitting in the cryochamber, being prepared to be put to rest in his cryotube. He and several hundred men and women, including the Captain, would be put in these tubes to sleep until they arrived at what was being deemed "System F".

McNair undressed and hopped into a tube that sat along side every other ODST tube and closed his eyes. This journey would be a long one.

---

_His eyes cracked slightly as the cryotube began the warm up process. He blinked for what seemed like an hour before his eyes adjusted to the light. When they did, he saw that she was standing there._

_"How long has it been?" He gently grabbed the uniform from her and put it on._

_"Ten years, Captain." She stood and watched as he dressed._

_He grunted. "How are our food stores holding up?"_

_She sighed, dropping her head to the ground, "We can last, _maybe_, another seven years. Serina had to be taken offline on our last check-in, three months ago. She wasn't close to rampancy, but if we need her at any other time... it'll be best to wake her when we have to."_

_"Alright," the man said, "How's the crew doing?"_

_She grabbed a data pad sitting on a pedestal to her left and typed something on it. "An estimated 900 crewman are still alive, with 600 Marines, ODSTs, and the Spartans. Only 300 deaths because of starvation and cryotube malfunctions in the last thirteen years."_

_The man looked contemplatively at the floor. Since the _Spirit of Fire_ had gone quiet thirteen years ago, he'd been in and out of cryosleep every two years. He believed the UNSC would rescue them eventually, but now, he was giving up hope._

_Realistically, a person could only survive in a cryotube for a year, but with the combined efforts of the _Spirit's_ AI, Serina, and alternating check-in's between himself, Anders, the Spartans, and other ship personnel, they'd lasted longer than a decade. It was an impossible feat to say the least. At each check-in, a skeleton crew of thirty people would be woken from cryosleep by the previous shift crew. A shift was roughly a year and a half, and the crew was regulated to strict rations and minimal exercise. During this time, they'd monitor communications, radar, or anything that could give them a hint of whether or not a ship, or planet, was in range. So far, there had been nothing, which made it impossible for Serina to determine where they were at._

_"This is the last shift we'll take for another two years... are you ready, Captain?"_

_---_

_"Capt...tain Cutt...read...er?"_

_The communication was filled with static and made the communications officer, Lieutenant Young, jump out of his seat. He typed in commands, attempting to locate where the signal came from __before the ping disappeared. He traced... traced... "Damnit!"_

_Cutter looked over at the young officer. "There a problem son?"_

_"Sir," Young answered, composing himself. "That's the third communique ping in a week and we haven't been able to trace it. Aren't you worried?"_

_Cutter sighed, gazing into the endless space before him. "They know we're here, Lieutenant; if we can't get a blurb back, they'll eventually get curious enough to send someone out here. For now, you just concentrate on making sure no Covenant communications come within our range. You hear?"_

_"Sir, yes, sir." Young didn't like the situation. He'd been going for almost a year now and the stress was tugging at his final sense of sanity. He'd need to half-ass everything now, just to stay sane._

_It was reaching the end of Cutter and his crew's shift and he could tell that there was tension built up among them. In the mess halls, when they had the occasional feasts to celebrate holidays, the crew members rarely used manners and fought over food. He'd walked into numerous arguments between two individuals over simple, childish things. He knew that the crew couldn't take much more of this... let alone _seven_ years. _

**2050 Hours**

**November 4****th****, 2552 (Military Calendar)/**

**Unknown Star Cluster, Outskirts of System "F"**

**CFV-88, UNSC **_**Spirit of Fire**_

The _Spirit_ exited the slipstream approximately two million kilometers from the system's edge. The shipboard AI, Ivanna, began the warm up process of the cryochambers and their individual tubes. She "hummed" in her processing matrix and began to power up all essential systems as the _Spirit_ drifted towards the nearest planet. She monitored all cameras and radar readings while sifting through all the profiles of the crew. Most of the Marines showed outstanding service records and more than half of them were the toughest the UNSC had to offer: ODSTs. The _Spirit_'s civilian crew included some of the most brilliant scientists the UNSC could spare and the bridge crew of the _Spirit_ had outstanding qualifications. She looked through all the files in seconds, but encountered two that were blocked by the ONI. She checked that the Captain's record was there and ruled out that it wasn't his.

The cryochambers were in the second stage of the warm up. She keyed the next step and then went back to examining the files.

All files she'd gone through had no shady content to them, save one man; a curious Master Sergeant named Eric McNair. So who were these two mystery men or women? She shot thousands of pings at the counterintrusion software on the files before injecting an intrusion software to slip through the cracks.

The cryotubes were hissing open. Ivanna approved the last stage and the tubes pressurized, slowly warmed, and then the lids opened fully. She saw that hundreds of men and women stepped out of the tubes, coughing and wheezing as they tried to get the nutrition mucus out of their throats.

She checked the communications frequencies... nothing. Radar... nothing. Forward, aft, stern, and bow cameras... nothing but space and the approaching planet. She checked her progress on the blocked files.

Ivanna was a "smart" AI, programmed with the best counterintrusion, intrusion, and operating abilities that were known to man at the moment. Her inability to crack the coating of these two files was beginning to irritate her. Coolant flowed into her core logic system and calmed her. She sent another thousand pings, waited for five nanoseconds, and then overloaded the counterintrusion software with one million pings. That allowed her a millisecond to slip into the files, retrieve them, leave a back door to them, and then insert a "ghost" print and logged it into Cutter's palm computer. She's sure he wouldn't mind.

What she found in the files though, she never expected.

The two "unknowns" were SPARTAN-IIs... the best warriors the UNSC had ever created. Tales lifted the Spartans to near mythological status, but not without good reason; Ivanna herself had read files and seen holos of the Spartans in combat. The UNSC was serious about this expedition if they sent not one, but _two_ Spartans. She quickly read through their files.

The first Spartan was a man. He was tagged as "Spartan-258"; one of the only Spartans to have received a _second_ physical augmentation. He could lift six times his weight, maintain a speed of sixty kilometers per hour, and run at bursts of over one hundred kilometers per hour. But that's not what caught her attention. As she read on, she found that this Spartan had a vertical jump height of over _nine_ feet. He had one of the prototype Mark-VII armors, which kept the shields, added another layer of gel, while the boots and gloves were equipped with nanothrusters and the boots had separately enhanced, fusion pack driven, micro anti-gravity cells. She calculated what this meant the Spartan could do with the armor... obviously the nanothrusters could propel the Spartan upward and allow him to hit with his arms and legs even faster. The anti-gravity cells allowed the Spartan to essentially "float" in the air, but only for a few seconds. This armor was designed like the old superhero Ironman's armor, except that it was faster, stronger, and more efficient.

The second Spartan was a woman. Her tag was "Spartan-340", and from what her service record said, she excelled at wreaking havoc behind enemy lines.

Ivanna was thoroughly happy with the news that they had two additional packages on board.

---

Down in the cryochamber, Cutter and the bridge crew were dressing and grabbing their duffel bags before heading to the bridge. He didn't speak much as his weapons officer, Lieutenant John Hayfield, and his navigation officer, Lieutenant Rick Strater, snapped each other with towels and fought over the best set of uniforms. He chuckled when Strater gave Hayfield a bleeding welt; they stopped playing after that and finished dressing.

It took a little under thirty minutes for the crew of the _Spirit_ to get her operational again.

Cutter and the bridge crew walked down a set of corridors, turned left into the mess hall, exited and turned right and followed that corridor down to a service elevator that took them up to another corridor that led them to the bridge. Cutter placed his duffel next to the captains' chair before sitting down and getting acquainted with the controls again. It'd been a long time since he assumed command of a vessel during an op.

"Bridge crew," he calmly called out over his back, "Report in."

Lieutenant Strater replied, "All radar and nav systems are a-go, sir."

"Archer missile pods A1-M9 intact and operational; MAC gun capacitors charging at a rate of three percent a minute; all Longsword single ships, Pelican dropships, and auxiliary ships accounted for; all two hundred and forty-two 50mm point defense turrets operational, sir," Hayfield reported.

"Communications arrays intact and operational; intercepting and receiving no communication, sir." Lieutenant Uri Walowski still sounded groggy, but didn't look it.

"Engine capacitors running at thirty percent and holding; Shaw-Fujikawa translight engine still intact and operational, sir," reported Lieutenant Lani Kahauki.

Captain Cutter smiled a slightly greedy smile before ordering, "Let's get this show on the road."

Ivanna projected her avatar, a young woman surrounded by motes of light and clothed in eerie armor reminiscent of the Romans, onto the pedestal to Cutter's left, saying, "Aye, Captain." The ship lurched forward as the engines kicked in.

"Hold on, sir," Lieutenant Strater said, "Getting some jumbled data from the motion sensors... this thing must be malfunctioning... it's showing _thousands_ of inbound contacts."

Cutter's face went stark white, but he kept his cool. "Coming from where?"

Strater didn't need to look at readings to point to the view window in front of the Captain's chair. Silence and horror gripped the crew as thousands of tiny little ships raced towards the _Spirit_, lancing plasma and pulse laser fire towards it.

"Brace for evasive maneuvers," he shouted, "Strater: transfer thruster controls to my station and Ivana: bring us about on heading two-five-one, declination one-five-zero."

"Bringing about." Ivanna commented, "You might want to check your motion trackers again, though; all contacts have vanished."

The captain stared at of the window, squinting to try and catch a glimpse of the silvery ships--

--there were none.

"Sir," Lieutenant Strater said, "I'm picking up... nothing."

Cutter held his breath. There was a catch to this; there was always a catch to such a shady mission. Though they had clear directions on what the ONI wanted them to do, they had very little intel of the area.

"Sir! Multiple contacts on our immediate bow!" Strater gazed blankly. "They made a pinpoint Slipstream entry from a little over four million kilometers away... not even the Covenant could do that."

"Captain," called out Walowski, "These single ships match no known profiles of any Covenant ship we've encountered."

Shit.

"Launch single ships and pull the safeties off the 50mm cannons." Cutter scanned the tactical map for some kind of strategy. The ships had materialized with no trace of radiation from Slipspace, meaning they had to be launched from a ship before they jumped in front of the _Spirit_. "Ivanna, give me the camera footage from fifteen seconds ago and magnify it by a scale of two hundred."

"Done," she replied, a nanosecond later, "On your computer pad."

Cutter watched as the single ships seemingly appeared.

"Now switch to thermal camera mode, rewind it, and play at one-sixteenth speed."

The footage showed empty space between the _Spirit_ and the first target planet. It slowly crawled forward and as it did, a heat flash shot across the screen, large enough to be a ship. Then the single ships appeared. He watched it again, paying little attention to what was going on around him. He recognized the profile, cross checked it... yes...

It was one of _them_.


	5. Chapter 4: Lost Contact

**Author's Note:** In Chapter 1, the MAC station _Gauntlet_ was named after the obstacle course that Master Chief must cross in his first session with MJOLNIR armor (_Fall of Reach,_ 258). Though the station doesn't directly orbit above the obstacle course, it was named after it because the course is the only real "landmark" for miles in that area. Just to clarify that point. Sorry that this chapter has come so late; I have been spending quality time with Halo 3: ODST.

**-Chapter 4: Lost Contact-**

**2050 Hours**

**November 4****th****, 2552 (Military Calendar)/**

**Unknown Star Cluster, Outskirts of System "F"**

**CFV-88, UNSC **_**Spirit of Fire**_

__As Sergeant McNair and his fellow ODSTs had stepped out of their cryotubes, none of them had felt at ease. They were light years away from the nearest human colony and they'd been sent on this mission with little intel of the area. Even McNair, who had only recently been promoted to the rank of sergeant, was on edge. They'd all dressed, grabbed their duffels, and settled into their barracks.

That's when the sirens had gone off.

They'd been in-system just under forty-five minutes and something had already attacked them. With no way to help aboard the ship, Eric and the rest of his company had been ordered to make ready for immediate drop. Once the ODSTs had heard this, each walked with a new spring in their step.

As far as McNair and his CO knew, a rugged lieutenant called Vernon, the _Spirit_ hadn't suffered any heavy damage, but from the constant shifts in direction and speed, they both knew that something was harassing the ship. McNair was in the weapons bay, loading assault rifles, pistols, grenades, and Jackhammer launchers into carts that sped off to load Pelicans, HEV pods, and distribute munitions to regular Marines in case borders jumped on the _Spirit_.

"McNair!"

"Sir?" McNair stopped dead in his tracks and ran over to Lieutenant Vernon, who was sitting by the drop bay doors.

"In your pod, now!" He pointed to the last empty pod and gave McNair a crisp salute before jumping into his own pod. McNair followed the line of HEV's until he reached his own and sat down. He strapped in, locked his weapons down, and ran status checks on his pod.

They were jumping into something deeper than hell.

---

Cutter gripped the edges of his chair as Ivanna flung the _Spirit_ into another evasive maneuver. The small single ships were still buzzing in and out of Slipspace around them.

"How much more can we take of this insane maneuvering, Ivanna?" Cutter shouted over the blaring sirens. His vision blurred and blood trickled down the back of his head, dribbling down along his back. He'd obviously suffered a concussion.

"Sir, I estimate ten minutes before the _Spirit_'s maneuvering thrusters completely run out of fuel, or these enemy ships manage to score a hit on a critical system." Her voice was calm and collected, like nothing was going on outside of her processing matrix.

Cutter braced against a control panel this time, as another wave of single ships came at them from the front. "How close can you get us to the planet?"

She thought for a moment, before answering, "Close enough for the ODSTs to be safely dropped onto the planet."

Cutter nodded, "Get us close then, and tell the ODSTs to suit up; they'll be making a hot drop."

---

First squad's pods dropped like feathers through the zero gravity of space before entering the planet's atmosphere. McNair allowed himself a few moments of awe as the unknown planet filled his view screen. It was an off-tone blue, with a metallic sheen that seemed to shine even in the absence of sunlight. There were dark crater spots, high mountain ranges, even some small bodies of water. But the planet just seemed... odd, but the sergeant was shaken from his moment as the pod hit the atmosphere.

Sergeant McNair could feel his pod get rockier and grow hotter as he descended onto the planet like a rock. Lieutenant Vernon had been the first to drop behind Major Newharth, who would be the CO of all ground operations as soon as they landed. Someone played soft, orchestral music through the squad's speakers.

"Hey," came Vernon's guttural voice, "Cut that shit off."

McNair tensed as his pod hit a pocket of air, free flew through the air for a whole two seconds, and then dropped like a meteorite through the rest of the atmosphere.

That's when his pod lost power.

---

"Sir," Ivanna reported, slightly anxious sounding, "I've lost contact with the ODST pods!"

Cutter's stomach dropped and his heart jumped up into his throat. "All of them?"

"Scanning... yes, sir; all of them." She stared absently at the deck of the ship before adding, "And no sign of the single ships."

Cutter stared with disbelief at the view screen in front of him; space was calm now, devoid of anything but the planet in front of them.

"Ivanna," Cutter said, "Scan the planet for any kind of EMP fields or anything that might be interfering with our gear. Walowski," he ordered, turning around in his chair to look at the officer, "I want you to try and establish some kind of communication, if possible, with Major Newharth on the planet."

"Working on it, sir." Walowski's fingers danced around the keyboard.

"Sir," Ivanna cut in, "Scan complete. No sign of any electrical fields, nor any interference, detected on the surface." She paused, "No life signs either, sir."

Cutter pierced his lips; there was a catch to this. He and his crew had survived nearly twenty years in cryosleep. They could get out of this.

"Sir," Walowski said, one finger pressed to the comm device in his ear, "You may want to hear this."

Keyes replied, "Put it through the bridge speakers." Everyone deserved to know what noise was coming in over that communication line.

It was a strange language, one that wasn't cataloged in their database as Covenant. An eerie silence smote the crew as low, deep humming filled the speakers. Over the humming was a voice, uttering nonsense and entertaining an invisible audience that must have listened contently; there were no other background voices. Maybe this was Covenant language, but it wasn't of a Covenant race they had discovered yet. ONI still didn't know much about their caste, religious, or political system; anything was possible.

"Walowski," Cutter told the officer, "Alert the Marine squads; tell 'em they're going for a ride."


End file.
